Into the Fire
by Celestial-moon-fire
Summary: Warden Commander Surana didn't expect much to happen at the Conclave. Or... at least he doesn't think so. He can't remember. He doesn't know what possessed him to go to the Conclave in the first place, and he doesn't know what the mark on his hand means either. Inspired by a K!Meme prompt in which the Warden becomes the Inquisitor.
1. Chapter 1

EDIT:

I decided I didn't like how I started. I also had some ideas about why Surana is at the Conclave, and needed to set it up better, so I edited and added some things.

* * *

What if your Warden became the Inquisitor?

A story inspired by a Kink Meme prompt, in which the Inquisitor is an unlucky Warden who needs to learn to keep his nose out of the world's business.

I chose my favorite (and only) Warden, Lysaldoren Surana, Ice/Blood Mage with a healthy side of Healer. He should be interesting to use. I gave him poor eyesight (farsighted/can see things far away but has trouble reading) and some anger issues that were mostly worked out during the ten or so years between Origins and Inquisition. He's terrified of Demons, hates the Circles and misses his Assassin boyfriend with a passion.

* * *

Darkness. Everything was surrounded by darkness. Swirls of fog obscured anything and everything. It felt almost like he was out of his body, like a dream. Still, when the skittering began, he knew he had to run. They were everywhere, large black bodies with twisting frames, chasing him on uneven terrain until he was scaling a mountain.

A warm light washed over him. He climbed further, crawling towards the light. A hand reached for him, their fingers touching, darkness encroaching, reach further, a spark-

He woke with a gasp, pain flaring, tearing, pulling the palm of his left hand. It was gone almost as soon as it came, with a flash of green light. There was only a dull aching, a more subtle pain that crawled up his arm, setted into his shoulder, scratched against his brain. He watched, enthralled and terrified by the shimmering scar on his palm, twisting and spiraling intricately, pulsing with pure energy.

His hands were bound in chain, secured to the floor. Flashbacks of Fort Drakon were immediately conjured. His eyes slammed shut, trying to block the images. The sound. The overwhelming fear of being alone, surrounded by the enemy. Screams of pain, the sound of strange devices built for torture, the smell, overwhelming, fear, sweat, sewage- Deep breaths. Terrified, gasping breaths. The only sound was a deep, unceasing hum. There was no smell other than dust, and the pleasant rot of old books.

It was… not comforting. his eyes opened again, staring at the scar on his palm. He swallowed roughly, almost choking as the muscles of his throat rubbed dryly against each other, tearing apart and forcing a cough past his lips. Finally, he looked away from the mark on his hand, and noticed he wasn't alone. Guards, Templars, posted on either side of him. At least six, swords poised, ready to take his magic and cut him down. Their shadows stretched impossibly far, pitch black, like the waters of Blackmarsh.

'Where am I?' He thought, imagining himself back at the Circle. Locked in a stone prison, forced to recite the Chant of Light, repenting the sins of his birth. Repeating until his voice cracked, for hours upon hours, until he was left to sleep, only to start again in the morning, after a splintered mug of water and bread as tough as the rags he slept on.

'No, not the Circle. Where am I?' He repeated in his mind, aware of the many sets of eyes glaring at him. He felt so sluggish, tired. Like he did when Sloth pulled him into the Fade, hours of traversing the hellish tower. Like when he was forced to swallow vial after vial of Magebane. Like the oppressive song of the Archdemon whispering to him.

His head was still not clear when the door yards in front of him burst open, a tall woman with dark hair rushing in like a storm. Her hand was buried in the fabric of his scarf before he could blink, pulling him forward as she snarled in his face.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now!"

He swallowed again, nearly toppling over when the woman pushed him back, straightening herself so she could pace a slow circle around him. Her form was twisted and out of focus. Poison dripped from her voice, sounding like a whole separate person mimicking and echoing her words. The words ringing his ears. It was like seeing double, only… hearing it.

"The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead."

She was going too quickly for his addled mind to keep up. His eyes focussed on anything but her, flitting across the face of each Templar- No, not Templars, he realized. Soldiers, shaking with fear. Of him? Of the woman? She continued to speak, but he continued to search. A familiar face with her arms crossed tightly across her chest stared down on him, the gaze more frightening than the fingers wrenching his head back painfully. He could feel several strands of his long blonde hair catch in the plates of her armored gloves, tearing free as she moved on.

"Explain this!" The woman, he likened her to a rage demon, grasped his hand, still aching and sputtering green flashes, holding it out as if to remind him it existed. This was a nightmare, he realized. His eyes never moved from her face. She wore a steeled glare, sending shivers down his spine when her eyes locked onto his. He could feel his eyes widen as a flicker of recognition flashed across the blue orbs.

The thought that a demon could recognize him was bad enough, but doing so while taking the form of one of his closest friends made it terrifying. He forced himself to look at the demon encircling him instead. Her face was scarred, angry as she leaned in, repeating her question. His stomach churned painfully as he spared another glance at the mark.

"I… can't." His voice came out as cracked as it did after long hours of chanting.

"What do you mean you can't?"

He shrunk in on himself. "I don't know what that is, or how it got there," he squeaked, surprised he could even speak at all in the demon's presence. Tendrils of her shadows reached for him as she leaned in.

"You're lying!" She shrieked, pulling on the end of his scarf, tightening it around his neck, can't breathe-

"We need him, Cassandra."

Her voice was perfectly imitated as well as her looks. The only clue to the imitation was that echo, bouncing around in his head. He couldn't listen to her any longer. His eyes screwed shut, his head bowed down so he didn't have to look. "If I don't look at them they can't have me" he chanted under his breath. "Wake up, wake up…"

She crouched down in front of him, lifting his head with her right hand, and stared into his eyes with a suspecting, searching glare. It was softer than before, but he knew that only made her more dangerous.

"Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Where her skin touched his, he could feel it burn. The shadows stroked his cheek, leaving trails of fire. He jerked his head back, stumbling as he threw himself off balance. She caught him before he tumbled over.

"You have nothing to be afraid of, my friend." She assured him as best she could.

"I won't make deals with demons…" His words felt hollow, like the life had been sucked out of him. She shook her head, straightened to a standing position and turned to the other demon.

"He still thinks he is in the Fade, Cassandra."

The demon was about to respond, when he choked out an answer. Make them go away, so he could… think? His head was clearer but everything was still fuzzy. Trying to remember what happened only worsened the sensation. It was like a part of him had been ripped away. It was dangling in front of him but he just couldn't reach it. The humming made it hard to concentrate.

"I was running. The song… there were things… demons? Chasing me. Then… a woman…?"

"A woman?"

"She reached for me, then…" he trailed off, staring at his hand again. It sparked, and the light fizzled. His head was clear, but there was still so much fog. "She wasn't a demon."

The rage demon stepped in, touching her shoulder.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift."

Leliana? Demon. Leliana.

"Be careful with him , Cassandra."

He watched her leave with wide eyes, not registering the demon unlocking his chains, until he was roughly pulled to his feet. She steadied him as he swayed.

"You are not in the Fade any longer." Her voice trembled, as if she were holding back some emotion. The look in her eye told him she was containing a vast amount of frustration.

"I… don't dream in the Fade," he mumbled, the sudden revelation crashing over him. He hadn't been able to since the Joining. "Is this real? I don't understand." The demon pulled him along a dark corridor, explaining as they moved. His sense of balance seemed to return to him as they ascended the stairs leading into the tall, open space of a Chantry, then out the large double doors.

He stopped abruptly when sharp sunlight assaulted his eyes. Looking past the brightness, he noticed a green glow cast over everything. Not three steps out the door, pain erupted again from the mark on his hand, forcing him to his knees. He held his hand tightly to his body, whimpering at the agony of that felt like knives ripping through his flesh.

He realized then he was definitely not dreaming. What he was seeing was too outrageous to be a dream. A green swirling vortex in the sky, his hand crackling with the energy of some unknown magic. Nothing made sense.

He wished he was dreaming.

* * *

My Warden is the Male Surana. He specializes in Ice magic, and any spell that slows down the enemy. Freezing spells and paralysis spells won him the Fifth Blight. He became a blood Mage after meeting Avernus at Soldier's Peak, utilizing his tainted blood to augment his magic. His signature move is Blood Wound, which is an augmented Mass Paralysis spell that stops enemies in their tracks. He's a very skilled Healer, after having to learn on the road. His ability to channel his own life energy into healing magic lets him heal almost on par with a Spirit healer like Wynne or Anders. As with most Blood Mages, healing magic has little affect on him. He can't heal himself unless he takes the life from someone else. He refuses to drain life from companions, and he hates the idea of using Blood Magic to control someone. He uses his blood purely to heal and protect. He relies on potions, since his Companions would expend too much energy healing him.

You can tell he and Dorian are going to be best friends (sarcasm).

I'm debating on whether or not to include my lavellan so he can romance Dorian. Surana is already in a relationship with Zevran.

I found a prompt on the K!Meme and decided to do my best to fill it. I don't know how far I'll get with this, but It's been fun so far. I'll try to keep everyone in character, but sometimes I'm afraid I might not even keep Surana in character. i'm not familiar with any of the Dragon Age characters in terms of writing. But I want to take this far as I can, so I'll try and look past it, and maybe one day come back and fix it if I ever finish it.


	2. Chapter 2

I decided to skip around a bit. Just a little.

EDIT: I didn't like the result of the skipping, so I filled in a little.

* * *

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't look past the demonic appearance of the woman. Cassandra. Not a demon, but still, she never came into proper focus. Wisps of some sort of magic fell from her shoulders, like shadows. They set his nerves aflame with dread. After untying his hands, she led him to a bridge. Demons in forms he could recognize and what looked like green meteorites fell from the Breach, crashing into the bridge and making the stones crumble. He gasped in pain as they landed amongst the rubble.

"Stay here," Cassandra barked as a Shade sprung up before them. Raising her shield, she charged towards it. As soon as she was gone, another emerged from the ice. He scrambled back, lighting his palm with magic. His right hand twinged as the paralysis spell sprung from his fingertips. He reached backwards, groping for any purchase to pull himself up, and found his fingers grasping at the slim wooden shaft of a staff. He could feel the frost magic imbued on the staff as soon as his fingers wrapped around it.

After finding a staff once again in his possession, everything seemed to fall in place. He felt like he was in control again, digging the blade into the ice and hauling himself to his feet. Channeling his mana into an ice spell, blasting away at the real Demons and Shades falling from the Breach. It was the most normal thing he'd done all day.

Cassandra stormed over, demanding he drop the weapon. Feeling brave, he reminded her that he could use magic without the staff. He regretted it. Despite being in the open, her shouts bounced off the inside of his head, jumbling his thoughts. He was relieved when she relented, allowing him to keep the staff.

He could tell that Cassandra was nervous around him, now that he was more aware and in possession of a weapon, throwing ice magic at everything that moved. Under her scrutiny, he was afraid to draw blood when she took a deep gash across her forehead, opting for a weaker spell that quickened the process of clotting, sealing the wound with a thin layer of scar tissue.

It was refreshing, to be away from the haze fogging his mind, bringing up terrible memories that should have been locked away. He felt like himself as the rhythm of battle sunk in. The more he concentrated on the demons, the less overbearing the music was.

When they came upon it, he could only stare at the tear in the veil. He hadn't seen anything quite like it since the Blackmarsh, but even now, it was different. It felt… tangible. Like he could press through the barrier between reality and the beyond. He didn't hesitate long before he found himself in the middle of the fight, casting a Hand of Winter spell. The shades were weak, freezing on contact with the shockwave of frost magic.

Cassandra shattered the demon nearest his left side, a stream of arrows chipped away at another. He brought the end of his staff down on a wisp wraith, casting a powerful Winter's Grasp. The force sent it hurtling, a chunk of ice that shattered on impact with the ground.

The rest of the shades were gone faster than he could turn. He could feel the vibrations put out from the rift. His hand ached, but the mark exploded when an elf he hadn't yet noticed violently grasped his wrist and thrust it upwards towards the tear, shouting something that he couldn't discern over the hum, or his surprised yelp. He yanked his hand back as soon as the tear was gone, eyes watering.

"What did you do?" He choked out, rubbing his palm. The elf responsible had a strange look about him, though he didn't know what was strange about it. If anything, he should have been a comforting sight, the first person who didn't have the oily black shadows prying at their shoulders. He was dressed like a traveller, with a staff that looked to be falling apart. He was bald, but that wasn't it either. He frowned as the stranger simply smiled at him, looking pleased.

"I did nothing. The credit is yours." He waved in his direction, and he realized he meant the mark, still spurting green light.

He swallowed, throat still parched, examining the swirling scar on his palm. "What is this? What did it do?"

"Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that opened in the breach's wake. And it seems I was correct."

He decided he didn't exactly trust this mage, not just yet. there was a knowing glint in his eye. He may not have looked like a demon, but he wasn't being honest with him either. He didn't have time to dwell on it, as Cassandra stepped closer from behind him.

"You mean the mark could also close the Breach itself?"

"Possibly," the elf nodded at her, then looked back to him. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation." He felt his heart beat faster at the same time it seemed to sink to his stomach.

No, not again. Not another...

"Good to know." He was surprised to hear that voice. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."

The dwarf approached him with an outstretched hand. He hesitated, recognizing the dwarf, but put off by the shadows clinging to his broad shoulders, reaching for him. Tentatively, not looking away from the wisps, he took it, returning the gesture.

"So we meet again, Hero. Your favourite rouge, storyteller and occasional unwelcome tagalong, at your service." He winked at Cassandra. She scowled at him. It felt so… normal. For the first time, she appeared more human than demon. The dwarf himself was still a welcome sight, chest hair be damned.

"I didn't know you associated yourself with the Chantry, Varric."

"Thought I'd branch out."

"You know each other? And you didn't tell me?" Cassandra cut in, narrowing her eyes at the dwarf. He shrugged, winking at her.

"You never asked, Seeker."

Cassandra made her frustration known with a huff.

"What are you doing here, Varric? Haven is a long way from that Tavern with the shitty wine."

Varric snorted. "Fenris did warn you about the taste." Then lowering his head, "technically, I'm a prisoner, just like you. Funny all things considering."

"I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly, that is no longer necessary."

"Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events."

He felt a smile tug at his lips. "It's… good, to see a familiar face, Varric," he said.

The elf cut in. "You may reconsider that stance, in time." Another smile. His own fell from his face as quickly as it had formed. Then, Varric made the mistake of offering his help in the valley, and Cassandra lost it. He winced as she raised her voice, the strange second voice both she and Varric possessed doing a real number on his head.

If not for the state their fighting put him in, the situation reminding him too much of- The elf tapped him on the shoulder. There was a brief moment of silence, which took him by surprise. Before he turned, he noted that Cassandra and Varric no longer sounded like four people, and that they no longer had the shadowy wisps clutching at their shoulders.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be anymore introductions." His hand didn't leave his shoulder as they stared at each other, Solas with a smile and a peculiar glare.

"Surana," he offered back carefully. Solas nodded thoughtfully, storing his name away. Finally he removed his hand from Surana's shoulder, and with its absence, the music came crashing down on him, leaving him momentarily stunned.

"I am pleased to see you still live, Surana."

Varric and Cassandra had stopped squabbling at this point, returning with an increased distance between them. The dwarf moved next to Surana and clarified.

"He means he kept that mark from killing you while you slept."

"Then I guess I should thank you, Solas. You seem to know a great deal about all of…" he looked around. "whatever this is."

"Solas is an Apostate, like you," Cassandra offered helpfully. Surana's lip curled at the word 'apostate'.

"Technically all mages are now Apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade. Far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin." Surana bit his lip, considering everything he'd just heard.

"That's… a commendable attitude. If only there were more people like you, willing to set aside trivialities in the wake of a disaster." It would have made his job as Warden easier. "If I can help close the Breach, I will." There was a relieved sigh from the Seeker, another smile from Solas. His first goal after dealing with the Breach was to get him alone and question. They exchanged a few words before Solas and Cassandra walked ahead, talking about him, Surana figured. He turned to Varric, the dwarf smirking up at him.

"Just couldn't stay away, could you, hero?"

"I guess not." A weak smile. "I don't even know why I'm here. Zevran is going to kill…" He trailed off. His heart dropped into his stomach. In all the time it had taken him to reach this point from the Chantry basement, he hadn't even thought about the assassin.

"Something wrong, Hero?"

"I don't know." Varric cocked his head, confused.

"I mean, the last thing I remember is being in Val Royeaux. Zevran was taking care of… business with the Crows and I was in the libraries." It was all very strange. The more he tried to recall the events between then and now, the less it made sense. "Val Royeaux is weeks away. That's a large block of memory."

"And you don't recall a minute of it?"

"I barely recall waking an hour ago, let alone the last few weeks." But if he'd left for Haven, where had Zevran gotten to? Was he alone, or was his Assassin with him?

"I don't know if Zevran was with me."

His voice was pitched higher with panic than before. Surana gripped his staff tightly, feeling drained all of a sudden. He searched his memories again, the ones that weren't there, trying desperately to remember the events that led him to the Conclave.

"Why can't I remember anything?"

"I'm sure he's fine, Hero. Your assassin is a slippery one." Varric touched his elbow briefly, flashing him a reassuring smile. Surana flinched, but nodded slowly.

"If… If he was here, and I got him killed…"

Just then, Cassandra called for them to get moving. He swallowed his fear and pressed onwards, though his mind was, finally, on anything but the demons.

* * *

So in my headcanon, when you meet Zevran in Act Three of DA:II, Surana is with him. I always wondered what happened to Mouse from the origin, and I figured he'd be after Surana eventually. Though they couldn't kill Mouse (sneaky son of a nug, that Pride Demon), Hawke managed to help send him off for a while.

After that I imagine they got together to play Wicked Grace and share stories because no way Varric is letting the Hero Of Ferelden get away without telling some first hand accounts of his adventure.


	3. Chapter 3

Surana gritted his teeth, the way the rift pulled against the mark imbedded in his palm still a sensation he hadn't gotten used to. It seemed to hurt less with each time he disrupted the rifts, but knitting the tears shut left him feeling… drained. He breathed heavily as he leaned into his staff, recovering from the strain. Soldiers up ahead pulled the gates open on Cassandra's command, and she strode through them, oozing authority. Slowly, he fell in behind her, still slightly out of breath.

"Does it hurt when you close rifts?" Varric asked, noting his obvious discomfort.

He thought about it for a moment. "It... feels like raking daggers over my skin," he offered. "Not very practical, if it only makes it hurt."

"Not even Daisy would consider bleeding practical," Varric muttered. "Crazy bastard."

He huffed. "Now you're just hurting my feelings."

Surana lifted his head and looked around the camp. He was searching for that familiar face… There she was, arguing with a stuffy man in Chantry robes. Cassandra had already gone to join the argument, flinging her angry words at the man. He waved her off when he caught sight of Surana's slow approach.

"Ah, here he comes now," he said. Leliana stepped forward.

"You made it." She was much less fearsome, now. Surana wasn't sure what terrified him so badly earlier.

"Chancellor Roderick, this is-"

"I know who he is. And as Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

"Order me? You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat."

"And you are a thug. A thug who supposedly serves the Chantry."

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know."

"Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the manner."

Surana would have laughed, had he not been terrified of potential Templars waiting to haul him to his death. Glancing around quickly as he stepped forward, he adopted an authoritative tone and willed his fear to melt away.

"You have no authority over me, Chancellor. I am no criminal." He would have laughed at that idea, too. His only crime was his magic.

Roderick turned on him and waved a finger in his face, as if he were a child. Surana considered smacking his hand away, but restrained himself.

"You brought this on us!" He withdrew, possibly from the withering look he received from Surana, and turned to Cassandra. "Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless."

"We can stop this before it is too late," she argued. Surana suppressed a groan, looking again up at the Breach. It amazed him how there was a potential solution yet there was still fighting over it. Already he could draw parallels to the Blight.

"How?" All of his anger seemed to have disappeared. He sounded tired, sad. Defeated. "You'll never reach the temple, even with all your soldiers."

"We must get to the temple. It's the quickest route."

"But not the safest," Leliana cut in. "Our forces can charge as a distraction, while we go through the mountains."

"We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It's too risky." Surana recognized the area Leliana was pointing at. It was one of the areas he'd explored with her so many years ago.

"Listen to me. Abandon this now, before more lives are lost!" Suddenly, the Breach pulsed, the mark on his hand reacting violently. He was caught off guard, nearly pitching over. His hand was on fire, lines that weren't there before tearing into his skin. It was both terrifying and fascinating to watch. He had to look away. Watching for too long made his stomach churn.

'I'll never be used to this...'

"How do you think we should proceed?" Cassandra looked at him. He was aware of all eyes looking at him as the green light slowly faded away.

"Already looking to me for the answers?" He tilted his head, already weighing his options.

"You have the mark," Solas reminded him.

"And you are the one we need to keep alive."

"Fair enough," Surana nodded. "I'm rather good at keeping myself alive. I say we risk the Mountain Pass and check for your squad on the way through."

Cassandra sent him a disapproving look, but didn't argue. She turned to Leliana. "Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone." She nodded, turning to leave. She flashed him a smile that he returned as she left. Cassandra led them towards the pass.

Roderick sighed. "On your head be the consequences, Seeker." She didn't bother answering.

The four trudged on in silence, Surana somehow taking the lead, Cassandra trailing close behind and Varric and Solas bringing up the rear. Being in the position of leading a group of people brought him back to leading during the Blight. It was almost like walking with Alistair and Morrigan at his heels again. The tension between Varric and Cassandra was so high he could almost feel it.

Finally, he had time to think. Still, he could not recall why he was here. If he came alone. The thought of Zevran possibly dying brought a distinct sharp prickle to his eyes.

"Cassandra."

"What is it?"

"Was I alone at the Conclave?"

"I don't know."

He fell silent again. He thought he'd recovered, back to his old self, fitting perfectly at the lead of the party. He was definitely out of his element here. Accused of a crime he was sure he didn't have the heart to commit, so much like the early days of the Blight, only this time without support. On top of that, the music, the whispers, the shadows reminding him at every turn his time was almost up. As much as he liked to pretend, Surana would never be prepared for this. The Calling. This mark.

He looked at it again, flexing his fingers, wincing at the random jolts of pain where the recently scarred skin pulled. He was so deep in thought, he didn't realize at first when they'd reached the ladders leading up the side of the mountain.

"You doing okay there Hero? You almost walked into that ladder."

"I was hoping the Seeker would use it to get off my back."

"We do not have time to joke around," Cassandra scowled. "The sooner we reach the Breach, the better."

Surana sighed. "Whatever you say, Seeker."


	4. Chapter 4

"The tunnel should be just ahead. The path to the temple lies just beyond." Surana nodded, though Cassandra had no way of seeing as they scaled the ladders.

"What manner of tunnel is this? A mine?" Solas called after her.

"Part of an old mining complex," she confirmed. "These mountains are full of such paths."

"At least there aren't anymore dragons," Surana said quietly, more to himself than the others following him. He stood by the edge and offered his hand to his companions as they reached the top. Cassandra eyed his outstretched hand suspiciously before ignoring it. Solas and Varric took his offer, allowing him to steady them.

"Your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?"

"Along with whatever has detained them."

They ascended a precarious looking fan of wooden planks, and climbed another ladder. Surana was almost expecting to see remains of the cavern full of Drakes, or perhaps a pocket of Dragon Cultists ready to take his head, like the last time he'd passed through this area, but only demons filled the tunnel. His lip curled, disgusted to see only rage demons gliding towards him.

Not waiting for the others to climb up after him, Surana threw himself into battle, laying down a mass paralysis glyph and launching ice from the tip of his staff. There was barely any resistance when the others joined in, making quick work of the demons.

It almost surprised him how well he remembered the path, though it was for the most part a straightforward run. "Be careful of the ice here," he warned. It was everywhere. Unlike the last time he'd been in these halls, the floor was covered in rivers of ice, most likely from an attempt to melt it away. Whoever had tried did a poor job of it, letting the water freeze into slick pools that even Surana was afraid he'd slip on, despite his practice. It didn't take long to reach the exit, after dealing with a few wayward demons.

A group of corpses wearing the same armour as the rest of the soldiers at the forward camp were sprawled unceremoniously over the ice by the exit. They seemed to have taken damage from both fire and ice, as what part of their skin wasn't burned and blackened was raw from frostbite.

"I guess these must be the missing soldiers," Varric sighed.

"That cannot be all of them," Cassandra insisted.

"So the others could be holed up ahead?"

"If they're lucky," Surana added in. If he strained, he could hear the sounds of swords clashing.

"Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe."

"You don't seem very optimistic, Solas. If they're alive, then we stop and help. The Breach can wait for a few minutes."

The sounds of combat became definite as the group scurried down the snowy path. The sound of metal striking flesh and the crackle of magical energy in the air only sped them up. Surana's hand began to glow as they approached a rift, guarded by three exhausted soldiers, two archers and a mage. He wasted no time diving in, disrupting the rift and throwing spells at whatever demon reared its head.

The rift let out a burst of energy as Surana pulled his hand away, the burn crawling up his arm making him grimace.

"Lady Cassandra!" One of the soldiers, breathless and bleeding profusely called out to the Seeker. The mage caught her as she began to fall forward, the others coming to help him. The group was a mess. The lieutenant wasn't the only one in poor shape. The other two soldiers were each leaning on one of the archers, attempting to hold each other up. Blood trickled through the gaps in their torn armour. The mage was in better shape, his breathing not as laboured as the others. Still, looking closely the shaft of his staff was coated in sticky bright red liquid.

"Lieutenant, you're alive!" Cassandra pushed past him, ignoring the sputtering of the rift.

"Just barely," she rasped, face contorted in pain. Surana began the familiar motions of a healing spell, probing her body mentally for wounds, discovering several deep gashes from the claws of terror demons and a broken arm. To his alarm, she seemed to be slowly bleeding out internally. The others weren't faring much better. Between them, the ground was covered in blood and several bones were fractured in all ranges of severity.

The rift sputtered again, releasing three lanky terror demons that seemed to home in on him. Trying to avoid them while still reading the injured group was a poor idea, he realized, as one leapt for him, claw slicing into his forehead and barely missing his eye. As soon as the first drop of blood formed, his skin began to to itch. The blood poured down his face in rivers, blinding him. He held his fingers against his temple and cast a mind blast spell to throw the demons off him.

"Cassandra, keep me covered and I'll heal the Lieutenant," he called, sidestepping the stunned demons while Solas and Varric shot spells and arrows at them. Cassandra for once didn't argue, letting the mage hold her Lieutenant up while she rushed to deal with the demons.

He knew it was risky to fuel his magic with his blood in full view of so many strangers, but the sharp gasps of pain from the Lieutenant were distressing enough that he caved, while wiping the blood from his eyes. He hardened a shard of ice in his palm and rubbed it roughly against his fingers as discreetly as possible, slicing into his skin. Surana suppressed a shiver as the blood seemed evaporate from his veins when he cast a powerful group healing spell, also throwing up a cleansing aura to help sooth further injuries. It had been a long time since he'd needed to cast such a powerful spell, but the rush was exhilerating.

"Close the rift, Hero!" Varric called from across the path after the final screeches of a demon rang out. He blindly thrust his arm out, the mark on his hand seeming to home in on the rift, and felt the tear mending itself. As soon as the rift was closed, Surana continued to cast more basic healing spells using his mana pool to mend the more superficial injuries.

Slowly, the Lieutenant's body began to mend. She let out a sigh of relief as he pressed his cold palm against her bruised shoulder, easing his healing magic through her damaged arm. He knew she was going to be much less thankful when he moved down to her lower arm.

"Hold your arm still, this is going to hurt. A lot." He bit his lip. "In fact, someone should hold her down.

Solas knelt next to him and gently, but firmly grasped her shoulder. The mage gripped her other arm, biting his lip after muttering an apology. Surana again fueled as much mana into his spell as he could spare and gripped her arm. Her body went rigid as her bones were forcefully pulled back together. He was impressed that she managed to hold in a scream while he worked.

Thankfully, the process was over soon enough. Finally getting the chance, Surana finished looking over the others, probing for injuries. His earlier group healing magic covered most of the damage done to the party, as well as Cassandra, Solas and Varric, though their injuries were almost nonexistent.

"I think you'll be fine now," he assured her. The lieutenant choked out a thank you, before passing out. "Get her somewhere warm before she freezes to death."

"Thank the Maker you all showed up, Lady Cassandra," one of the Soldiers said. "I don't think we would have held out much longer." To Surana's surprise, Cassandra shot him a non-hostile, almost thankful look.

"Thank our prisoner, soldier. He insisted we come this way."

"The prisoner? Then you… You have my sincere gratitude." Surana felt a smile forming.

"It was worth saving you, if we could."

"The way into the valley is clear for the moment." Cassandra pointed up the path they'd come through. "Go, while it is still safe."

"Let's move, then." Supporting the Lieutenant between them, the soldiers moved forward. The mage, however, did not follow. He looked the mage over, for the first time getting a good look at him.

He was an elf, Dalish, if the bright vallaslin branching under his eyes said anything. His light blonde hair was a horrible mess, tangled and soaked with blood and demon ichor.

"If you'll allow it, I would like to help you."

"Absolutely not," Cassandra growled. "We don't have time. Follow the soldiers back."

"Hold on, Cassandra," Solas cut in. "The path ahead looks to be free of demons, but there is no telling what awaits us at the temple." Surana himself wasn't opposed to the idea either. He could feel that the elf was powerful, no doubt from years being trained away from the circle. A familiar aura seemed to radiate from him, reminding him of himself.

"You're an Ice Mage, aren't you?"

The elf looked startled. "How did you know? I didn't have enough mana to cast during the fight."

"Experience. I specialise in Ice Magic myself. You aren't exactly dressed like someone who isn't used to the cold, either." He looked down toward his bare feet, then his thin clothing.

"Perceptive. Everyone else so far has assumed I'm just insane."

"Join the party, then," Varric added, grinning. "It seems all the heroes these days are crazy Ice Mages. Maybe it's your turn to step up."

After being outvoted, Cassandra finally relented, though she was back to giving Surana that disgusted look. Their newest team member was quiet after his initial introduction, making no attempt to get to know his temporary companions. Just by observing him, Surana could tell the elf was out of his element. Not literally; he seemed perfectly fine walking through the snow with his feet exposed. It was remarkable how little it bothered him. No, despite his offer to help, he fell back towards the edge of the group, ignoring any attempts made by Varric to talk about himself.

It reminded him of Velanna, though it seemed more like he was nervous than he was sporting an 'I'm better than you' frame of mind.

"Look there, the Temple Of Sacred Ashes."

"It's… seen better days," Surana said.

"Before you destroyed it, you mean?"

"I'm talking ten years ago. Before everyone learned of its discovery and flocked to it like flies to a Druffalo."

Cassandra looked at him strangely. "That only makes you seem guiltier. You have knowledge of the Temple that could have aided you in its destruction."

"And yet, you don't seem to believe I'm guilty. Unless it's a Seeker tradition to let prisoners lead the group?"

"Ugh." She waved him off and trudged past him. Surana smirked, leaning into his staff as he watched her hands wave rapidly to whatever complaint she was muttering.

UGH this is taking longer than anticipated. Hopefully we'll be in Haven after the rift is sealed next chapter. I hope it's sealed next chapter, so I can introduce my mystery mage.

I feel so unpracticed. This is the most I've written in probably two or three years. I'm… very rusty, to say the least. I hope the description of the healing taking place wasn't too strange.


	5. Chapter 5

Nothing he'd ever seen during the Blight, Amaranthine or his time travelling the continent could have prepared him for the remains of the Temple. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Rocks veined with magic similar to what was branded across his left hand, debris from the size of his head to the size of a pebble floating above his head. The rift itself was massive, and the air was singing with the amount of energy pouring from it, even in its unactivated state.

It was almost like the Sloth Demon's domain, where everything was floating or upside down, playing tricks on him.

"Leliana, have your men take up positions around the Temple." Cassandra moved in front of him. "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?" He noticed that the nightmarish second voice that had disappeared a while ago was back, startling him. Ignoring it, he nodded.

"I'll try, but I don't know if I can reach that, much less close it."

"No, this rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

"Then let's find a way down, and be careful."

Surana could feel a growing, overwhelming sense of dread in the air as they travelled downwards. The singing increased in volume and curiousness as they approached growing veins of lyrium. What Surana didn't understand was the colour. Standing so close made his skin crawl, as well, almost like there were bugs under his flesh.

"You know this stuff is red Lyrium, Seeker."

"I see it, Varric."

"But what's it doing here?"

"What is Red Lyrium? I've never heard of it."

"It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it."

Whatever explanation there was to be had, it was quickly forgotten as an unfamiliar voice rang out.

"Keep the sacrifice still."

Something about the voice made his heart race with some sort of excitment. It was familiar, and listening to it left a strange sensation in his ears.

"Someone! Help me!" The second voice was also familiar, but it did not have the same effect on him as the first did.

"That was Divine Justinia's voice!" Cassandra gasped.

"But who else is talking?" Surana asked as they approached the end of the path, dropping into the depression that was the remains of the innermost sections of the destroyed Temple. No one had an answer for him. They approached the rift with the magic reacting in his palm. Before he could move to seal it, the voices returned. This time, an apparition appeared, a memory of the past like he'd encountered years ago in the Deep Roads.

The Divine was suspended over the ground by some sort of magic, a looming shadow sneering over her. "Keep the Sacrifice still," he ordered to unseen minions. And then, Surana watched himself stagger into the memory, generic circle staff in one hand, the other pressed against a wall.

"What's going on here?" His other self asked, eyes darkened with confusion.

"Run while you can! Warn them!" Justinia exclaimed, peering over her shoulder towards him.

"We have an intruder. Kill the elf, now."

And then the memory was gone in a flash of light.

"You were there!" Cassandra exclaimed. "Who attacked? And the Divine! Is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

"I don't remember, Cassandra. This is just as new to me as it is to you." He hoped Cassandra didn't want to press the issue just yet. The information was simply… absent from his mind.

"This isn't the time." Surana glanced over at Solas, who was approaching the rift. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily." The elf turned to meet his look. "I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely draw attention from the other side."

"That means demons!" Cassandra called loudly, for the benefit of the Archers lining the temple walls and the soldiers waiting filing in. "Stand ready!" His fingers twitched when Cassandra nodded for him to open the rift.

The energy required was more than what the many smaller rifts from before had required. He gritted his teeth to stop any pained noises from escaping, then stumbling back as a pulse threw his balance off. A beam of green light shot from the rift, and a Pride Demon appeared before him. For a moment, he returned to memories of his Harrowing. The demons several eyes locked onto his wide open pair, and let out a deep chuckle. Pride Demons were the worst. At any moment, he was waiting for his Pride Demon to follow, to worm its way into his head.

"Now!" He was aware of Cassandra giving the order to attack, but Surana was rooted in place, his body rooted in place. Varric nudged him, getting his attention.

"This is no time to stand around and look pretty, Hero." Surana managed to nod and lit his staff with magic, casting Cone of Cold and freezing the demon's massive right arm just as a whip of electricity prepared to lash out at them. Backing away, he joined Solas and the Dalish Mage near the edge of the makeshift arena. They attempted to whittle its health down lobbing spells at it, but they simply bounced off its thick hide.

"We need to weaken the Demon, Surana. Disrupt the rift while it's distracted by the soldiers."

"Right, I'll get on that." He wasn't close enough to reach the rift from his position, so he made sure to stay out of its sight while approaching the rift. Leliana smiled at him grimly when he stopped next to her, holding his hand out the disrupt the rift.

"You recognize me now, my friend?" She asked when the Pride Demon fell to its knees.

"You don't sound like a demon anymore, if that's what you mean," he confirmed breathlessly, casting a paralysis glyph as Shades began to pour from the rift. Thinking quickly, he cast another spell, letting his ice magic coat the weapons of his nearest allies.

"What are you doing here?"

"I honestly don't know." The rift continued to spew out demons, several of them locking in on Leliana and the Warden. He felt a barrier erupt around them, and he took the added protection as an opportunity to leap forward, releasing a shockwave of magic into the center of the group, stunning them before leaving one with a Walking Bomb. He heard the satisfying explosion before he felt the demon's remains splash onto him.

"We could use some help here," someone shouted. A soldier was trying to get his attention, gesturing towards the Pride Demon, before he was lashed by the electric whip and propelled forward, lying on the ground unmoving. Surana rushed over, healing the stunned man with quick healing spell as he ran. The Demon caught sight of him, preparing another lash just as Cassandra leapt forward, smashing her shield into its left leg, sending it stumbling again.

Surana channeled his mana into a storm, creating a small blizzard over the demon and slowly freezing it in place. A stone fist shot from the tip of his staff, shattering an arm held up to swipe away potential swords blows. The demon let out a deep, pained shriek that made his body vibrate, then slumped forward. Cassandra came in again, climbing up its back and thrusting her sword into its skull.

"Now! Seal the rift!" Solas yelled. Surana wasted no time, raising his arm above his head and attempting to seal the massive tear. A numbness set in, starting at his fingertips and crawling up his arm. This time, he did cry out as a burning consumed the numbness. The energy flowing from his hand suddenly snapped back, making his arm jerk before he was thrown off his feet, crashing into someone. Before his body fully hit the ground, everything went black.

* * *

Ugh, fighting with magic is hard. I realized today that every fight scene I've ever written is usually physical, with a small amount of magic if necessary. But my Surana was a noodle, ending Awakening with only 8 points in strength. Yes, UNDER the base level, because of a necklace I was wearing, I think. Either that or it was his belt… maybe the robes? I don't even remember.


End file.
